


Divine Dysphoria

by Garecc



Series: Of Immortals [17]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Congrats y'all i wrote smthn about my absolute fave headcanon, Gen, Hating Your Body, Identity Issues, Lester isnt a good time, Youurelovely helped make this headcanon ages ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Garecc
Summary: Apollo hates Lester.He hates being Lester.He hates this body.He hates this form.They call him overdramatic, but everything iswrong.





	Divine Dysphoria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youurelovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youurelovely/gifts).



> Look y'all I wrote up smthn abt my fave headcanon

Apollo hates being mortal.

He  _ hates it. _

His powers being gone is only part of it, and, if he was being honest not even that large of a part.

It was the little things that got to him.

The way dirt clung to his skin. The way his skin felt. The very way he  _ breathed. _

All of it was  _ wrong. _

All of it was  _ disgusting. _

He was aware of all of it. Every single thing wrong with this flesh form.

His skin was the wrong color.

His body the wrong shape.

He was too short.

He was  _ wrong. _

And he couldn't do anything about it.

He was trapped in a suit of flesh and hair and organs and tissues and it was  _ wrong. _

People called him dramatic. They said he was overreacting.

Apollo could feel the dirt. Feel the oils and sweat on his skin. Feel how  _ mortal  _ he is with every breath.

Feel the acne on his face feel the blood in his veins feel  _ everything. _

It wasn't him.

It was  _ never him. _

Yet it was.

It  _ was  _ him.

He was this flesh.

He was this bone.

He was this blood.

He  _ is  _ this body.

_ Yet he isn't. _

He is Apollo.

He is a God.

He is not flesh, bone and blood.

He is  _ not Lester. _

Every time he looked at himself it was another slap in the face with how  _ wrong  _ he is.

Every time he doesn't expect it.

And every time it hurts just the same.

He feels itchy. Itchy and scratchy and wrong and gross and  _ wrong. _

He feels wrong.

They say he looks fine. Average.

_ But  _ **_He_ ** _ is not average.  _

This is so far below average.

And the blood.

_ The blood. _

He no longer bleeds ichor.

He bleeds red.

He bleeds red.

He bleeds red like Hyacinthus as he bled onto the wildflowers of Sparta so many lifetimes ago.

It's wrong.

Yet it  _ is _ .

And the  _ dirt. _

He feels like it covers him.

As a god he never had to deal with dirt like this.

_ It's disgusting. _

It clings to his skin and clothes and body and  _ it's disgusting. _

It makes  _ him  _ even more disgusting.

And his body secrets liquids. Oil and sweat and it's gross and wrong and  _ disgusting. _

He feels wrong.

He is wrong.

This body is  _ wrong. _

His skin is the wrong color. To pale. To fair. 

He can't even  _ look at his hands  _ without feeling  _ gross  _ and  _ wrong  _ and everything is  _ wrong with his body. _

His eyes are the wrong shade of blue.

His hair an ugly brown.

_ It's wrong. _

His hair is still curly, but it's the  _ wrong curly. _

It's  _ wrong. _

He’s too short.

He’s too pudgy.

He’s  _ wrong. _

_ He feels wrong. _

It's not  **him.**

But it is.

They make a joke of it.

They make a joke of his complaints of this form.

Arguing that he took many forms as a god. Calling him dramatic. Making jokes of his appearance.

It hurts more than it probably should.

The forms he took were of his design. They were still  **him.**

They claim him dramatic.

_ But everything is wrong. _

He is the wrong shape.

The wrong height.

The wrong  _ everything. _

And everything is  _ duller.  _

So many colors just  _ aren't there.  _

So many textures he just  _ can’t feel. _

Everything is duller. 

More than half his senses are just  _ gone. _

Everything is  _ dull _ .

Mirrors scare him.

He stares at that boy in the reflection, that boy isn't him.

In his head he sees himself.

His long golden curly hair. His father's eyes, and mother’s nose and mouth.  **His** face that looks so much like his sisters. 

But the face isn't his. The body isn't his.

It's not his.

It's like he’s wearing a mask and everyone is treating it like it's his face, and he can't take it off.

He is  _ not  _ Lester.

This body follows his movements. Follows his commands.

But it's not his.

_ But at the same time, it is. _

There are times he just wants to claw of this form.

Rip off this flesh and reveal the divinity beneath.

Tear away the blemished and  _ wrong skin _ .

He  _ must  _ be beneath it.

He  _ has to be _ .

He  _ isn't  _ Lester.

He can't be.

Thoughts keep him up at night.

Wondering if Lester was a reflection of what he  _ actually  _ is.

Wondering if he's always been ‘Lester’.

Been ugly.

Disgusting.

_ Wrong. _

He tells himself he isn't.

He never was.

He is  **himself** .

He is  **Apollon** .

He is a God.

That Lester is temporary.

A punishment.

He stares at his scarred and blemished hands.

Mortal hands.

With calluses and freckles.

Imperfections.

He isn't Lester.

He  _ can't  _ be.

Because if he is, then what is Apollo?

What is Apollo other than a trillion mistakes and broken promises?

Shattered blessings and deaths trailing behind him.

What is Apollo other than the suffering of millions?

He feels lost.

He feels scared.

He feels  _ wrong and gross and disgusting on the most basic level. _

His body disgusts him. His being scares him. 

He doesn't know who he is anymore.

Who is  **he** behind the lies he's woven?

Who is  **he** behind the deaths and gold?

Who is  **he** other than some overly dramatic teenager making mountains out of molehills?

**He** doesn't know anymore.

But He does know that  _ his body is wrong. _

His  _ form is wrong. _

_ Everything  _ is  _ wrong  _ and he's helpless to do anything to fix it.

He's  _ flesh  _ and  _ bone  _ and  _ blood  _ and  _ mortal _ .

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @garecc


End file.
